The Spirit in the Blade
by Lixie Lorn
Summary: Based on a single paragraph/rule in the original Realms of Chaos book, about daemon weapons. A Girl, due to great misfortune, is bound within a daemon weapon. This is, of course, very, very bad.
1. Beginnings of Misfortune

**The Spirit**

**Chapter 1-Beginnings of Misfortune**

****

_In this story, speech in **bold **is that in the daemon tongue._

Outside the small farm town of Kleinsburg the sun was breaking over a cold and terrible scene, through a layer of thick clouds. The battlefield was quiet; the dead of the chaos force that had attacked lay on the ground mingled with their destroyers.

The only sound was that of passing crows.

And a pair of shoes trudging through the dead.

Fifteen year old Kirsten the farm girl walked carefully through the dead. She had a pretty face, and long black hair. A slim figure, taller than most. Whenever the village was attacked, her parents told her to search for valuables, so she did. She never found anything. But this time… something glinted in the half light, and she walked over to it. And gasped. It was a beautiful sword of black metal, carved with runes inside runes to depths that hurt the eyes: just by looking she knew that it was worth thousands of crowns. She stepped forwards and touched it. Instantly she knew how bad an idea that had been. The blade felt hot in Kirsten's hands, and it began to glow. The light and heat became unbearable, but she could not let the weapon go .The sword flashed once.

And a monster stood before her.

"**I thank you**," Said the creature. "**for freeing me from my prison**."

She stood there, too scared to speak, and too scared to move.

"**Now, of course, you must take my place in the daemon sword**."

She found her voice at this terrifying statement.

"But I am not a daemon! Please, just let me go."

The daemon nearly laughed at the naive child. But something stopped it. Something was left of its previous life.

"**That means nothing. You freed me, so you must take my place. That is how it is. But I can tell you what will happen to you now**." She said nothing, so it continued. "**You will become the sword, and the sword will become you. I will take you to the great gods and they will keep you until you are given to a champion as a reward. That is how you will live, from now until the end of time, or until some fool frees you and takes your place. You will remain as you are now, but you will be daemon. Only if your bearer is changed will you follow. But only the greatest champions are worthy of a human daemonblade. That will not happen**."

She stood there, barely aware she still grasped the weapon that had doomed her.

"I am no daemon." The daemon responded with a crooked smile.

"**A daemon is just a spirit without the flesh hanging off it. Your 'soul' is but another word for daemon**."

"Please." She whimpered. "Help me! Spare me!"

The daemon spoke again, its pity exhausted. "**You are beyond help now**."

The sword began to glow again, and for Kirsten the whole world turned bright white. There was a flash, and the sword lay on a small pile of clothes and dust. The daemon took Kirsten the sword, and vanished with a crack and a cloud of smoke.


	2. The Realms of Chaos

**Chapter 2-The Realms of Chaos**

Kirsten awoke again, and felt her naked skin touching freezing metal. She sat up, but the metal remained. She opened her eyes, and through a veil of translucent daemon-steel saw sights that no mortal should see. Kirsten, the sword, lay on cracked, black soil that heaved and shifted constantly, with hundreds upon thousands of other weapons lying around. The daemonic thoughts coming from each told her one terrifying fact. She lay in the Realms of Chaos. While true daemons swore for revenge on the fool who bound them, Kirsten curled up in a ball and sobbed.

She cried for what felt like days, and was probably longer. Throughout this time not a single daemon weapon was taken. She completely lost hope. There was no way she would be taken until the last one was gone. She would be here until she died. Yet, as a spirit, she would live for ever. She once again began to cry.

She laid there, the touch of metal that was the hellish life in a daemon weapon touching her skin everywhere on her naked spirit body. But approaching footsteps made her look up. Through the veil of cold metal that surrounded her she saw a daemon walking forwards to the great armoury that Kirsten's blade lay in. She looked down, acutely aware that she would lie here for thousands of years before it was her turn to suffer the agony of service. It had seemed like lying here would be preferable to serving. But could anything really be worse than the endless monotony she suffered now? Then she felt the daemon pick up her blade. She looked up again, not daring to hope it was true.

It was. The daemons terrible voice leapt straight to her thoughts.

"**You have been chosen. You shall be gifted to the great champion Hans Deathbringer. You are the greatest honour he can have, a human daemonblade**."

It walked out of the armoury on its twisted, clawed reptilian feet, carrying Kirsten with it. When it reached the huge gates, it opened them, walked through, and vanished with a crack. They reappeared in a desert, and Kirsten, disorientated, looked out upon a place that made sense. The daemon walked towards a great tent in the distance.

The daemon walked into the tent, carrying a great and ornate sword.

"**You are Hans Deathbringer**." It was not a question but the champion nodded anyway. Kirsten looked upon her new… she shuddered to think it… _owner._ He had a full suit of blood red armour, including a helmet. Two horns protruded from holes in the helmet. The daemon walked slowly forwards, kneeled, and held out the daemon sword that was now Kirsten's body.

"I** am here to give you your reward. A Daemonblade**" it said. The champion responded in ritual.

"I thank thee for my reward." Then he asked, curiously, "What daemon is bound within?" He removed one gauntlet and took the sword reverentially, and felt a thrill of power. The daemon spoke again.

"**It is bound with a foolish human girl**." Hans smiled.

"Wonderful. I thank thee again." The daemon vanished with a puff of smoke, and a great crack. Kirsten felt the touch of the warm flesh of the champion on her metal skin. "A human daemonblade. So it is true." He drew a sword from a scabbard in his belt and cast it to the floor, and carefully placed Kirsten within. She thought of the life she had lost, and felt tears spring to her eyes. She whispered aloud to herself.

"I must not cry." She sniffed, and drew up her courage. "This is my life now." And with that terrible thought, she slept and dreamt of happier times.

She awoke and opened her eyes. She was still encased in the leather of the scabbard. She could hear voices, and sense the thoughts of her… owner. There was savage glee.

"Master, there is a camp nearby. Nurgle followers."

"Excellent." Spoke Hans. "I can test my daemonblade. Do you hear that,

daemon-child?"

She screamed, certain that no-one could hear her.

"I am not a daemon!"

Hans gave a crooked smile, and thought straight at her.

"You are in the blade, so you are a daemon. My daemon."

Within minutes the tents were packed and Hans and his army were on the move. His hand was on Kirsten's hilt. The touch of his warm flesh was torture after so long. She spoke in his mind.

"Remove your hand!" His grip only tightened as he answered.

"Slaves do not order their masters, daemon." Then she realised. That was what she was now, a slave. She had no control over this terrible half-life. And she never would, not for all eternity. This crushed what remained of her self control, and once more she rocked back and forth, and cried. And so she did not know when they reached the camp. She did not hear the words that went back and forth like arrows. She did not notice the war cries of charging warriors. And finally, she ignored the touch of his hand as she was drawn, her edge so sharp it cut the air. She did not ignore the feeling of her edge cleaving armour, flesh and bone; She could not, as a human in a daemonblade suffers greater pain than can be described and far too much to ignore. She felt her energy slowly draining as the blade drew on it to augment Hans' strength. The pain was so great she screamed, sobbed until she could sob no more. But still the battle continued. It was like a thousand knives on every part of her skin, like being trapped in a room where the walls were slowly crushing you, like being in the heart of a sun as it exploded. And all the while she lost her energy to Hans, the enchantments of the blade taking it away. Soon she had no energy to cry, nor to scream, barely enough to think. The pain stopped, and the power of Kirsten the daemonblade waned. Her energy was gone, and her deadly powers left with it.

But as she dropped into a dreamless, exhausted sleep, Hans, Chaos Champion faced a great problem. In his pride at owning a human daemonblade, he had taken on what was less a champions retinue than an army. He screeched and shouted, both normally and mentally at the sleeping Kirsten, railing against his misfortune as the numberless beastmen, humans, elves and dwarves closed in. And slew him.

As Kirsten woke she realised there was no hand on her hilt. She looked about and saw Hans on the floor, his hand inches away. He was not dead, but close to it. Was she so lucky? Would someone free her accidentally? There was a flash of light and a crack, and another daemon appeared in front of her; picked her up. She sighed. Was she so powerful the chaos gods would not let her go? The daemon cackled, its touch meaning her thoughts were as loud as words.

"**You are a human daemonblade. Nothing is too great a risk for you**."

So that was it. She couldn't get out that way. She really was trapped forever. She lay down and tried to sleep as she was taken back to the armoury, knowing that her life was an endless flux between now incredible pain and endless boredom.


	3. Passing Time

**Chapter 3-Passing Time**

She learnt quickly to ignore the changing faces of her bearers, one after another made the mistake of thinking her strength would last longer. If it did, none of them would die. It was truly devastating how powerful she was as a sword. But it never lasted. Her human strength was not great enough to last for the incredible battles they attempted. Only one survived his first battle. His name was Marcus. He ran when she failed. For this he was changed, a huge tail sprouting from him. She winced, knowing that her form would be irrevocably changed for_ his_ failure. She closed her eyes. Nothing seemed to change. But when she opened her eyes again she knew something had changed. Chaos had opened her to magic. From then on all her bearers were told this and they drew her magic powers from her and used them as their own. She said nothing. She was a slave.

When about a year had passed for her she was given to another new champion. She expected nothing, just another battle she could not win with her limited strength.

The champion took her and asked nothing of the daemon, dismissing it instantly. She knew at once through his thoughts that he would not charge into an unwinnable battle. He was a sorcerer. He did not seem to have a scabbard, he just carried her. He entered the second largest tent, where a lesser sorcerer stood. There were weapons everywhere, and she could feel magic in every single one. He walked over and sat on a chair before addressing the sorcerer.

"Check this weapon. What daemon is there within? I must know its powers."

The weapons expert opened his mouth. "Yes, you may touch it," snapped the champion. "How else can you examine it?" He said nothing, but took her blade and looked on the spirit within, Kirsten, using magic. He spoke, surprised.

"This is no daemon! It is a girl-child." The champion looked annoyed.

"It is a daemonblade. What else would be within it?" The sorcerer cringed.

"Of course. It is no _normal_ daemon." He said, agreeing instantly with his master.

"I wish to speak with this strange daemon, Leon." said the champion.

"It can hear us now, my lord." said the sorcerer, Leon, quickly. The champion sighed.

"Properly. Face to face. How can I release it and still control it?" Leon sat, and thought quickly. He brightened, and spoke hesitantly.

"You know, of course that it will come out if you speak **'come forth'** in the Daemon tongue?" The champion nodded, and the sorcerer quickly continued. "There is a way of sending it back. Speak **'leave me'** in the Daemon tongue." The champion took Kirsten back, and stood up, beckoning to the sorcerer.

"Come with me to my tent. I want you there to see this strange daemon."

They walked across to the biggest tent, the champion carrying Kirsten carelessly. After all, she was not a true daemon, and could not harm him.

On arrival, Kirsten looked around. It was ornate, and more like a house than a tent.

In the corner was a bed, also richly carved and decorated. She looked around in amazement.

"**Come forth, daemon**." And with shock, not knowing what was happening, Kirsten saw everything go white, then flash once. She opened her eyes, and noticed four things in quick succession. First, she saw that the metallic haze and its touch on her skin were gone. Then, she saw her prison on the table between the champion and the sorcerer. Thirdly, she saw the champion looking at her with distrust and interest.

Then, last, she noticed she was still naked.

The champion said to her sharply, "Daemon, what are you?"

And she said to him, "I am a girl from the Empire. Oh, thank you for freeing me, thank you, thank you!"

He spoke again. "You were. Now you are bound to a daemonblade. You are a daemon. It is not hard to understand." The sorcerer began to speak. He was less cruel.

"What is your name, daemon-child? And where do you come from?" She looked at him, grateful.

"I am Kirsten and I am from Kleinsburg in the Empire, on the edge of Ostland."

Leon seemed surprised. He talked quietly to the champion, then turned.

"I came from Ostland once. There was no Kleinsburg." said the sorcerer.

"Wait-" He seemed to have an idea. "What year were you born?"

She said, confused, "1504." There was complete silence for a second. The champion spoke again.

"Daemon. It is now the year 2519." She sat there, absorbing this terrible news.

She told herself one thing over and over in her head.

"I must not cry." The champion looked unimpressed.

"What powers do you have, daemon?" He asked, his voice cutting across her pain.

"I can do magic. And please, my name is Kirsten!" She forgot that he had power over her. "Who are you?" She asked, wondering why she had only just thought of it.

"I am Karl. You are my servant, and you can call me master. I will call you whatever I like, daemon. You have served your purpose now. **Leave me**."

At this the sword began to glow, and Kirsten's vision went white. She said quickly.

"No! Please! I will do anything! Don't send me back!" But even as she finished the last word there was a flash, and she vanished. Her last word hung in the air.

Karl took a battered scabbard from the floor of his tent and placed Kirsten within. While his hand was on the hilt he thought he heard sobbing.

She remained in the sword crying for a long time. She paid no heed to movement, or to voices. The summons seemed like something very cruel to do. He had reminded her of true life, and then trapped her back within the sword. The cold touch of metal on her skin once more was worse than anything she had ever experienced, including the pain of battle.

Outside the sword, Karl went about his camp, preparing to leave to travel across the plain. But his mind was on something else. Why did that daemon girl hang in his mind? Another thought came. She was quite pretty in a way. The champion continued in his work.

Later that night, in his tent, the champion sat on a chair, thinking. There were many questions he could have asked of the daemon-girl. Maybe, he thought, he should summon her again. Unfortunately, he had neglected to bring the sorcerer… then again, he, Karl, champion of chaos, did not need that emotional fool!

He slowly and carefully drew Kirsten and placed her on the floor. Inside, she was crying still at her mental anguish and the physical pain she knew would, in time, come. While she tried to ignore the loud thoughts that were not her own, two words cut through her pain.

"**Come forth**." She stopped crying; all hope returned instantly as her vision went white, and cleared with a flash. She sat, once again, in the large and beautiful tent. The champion was there. She opened her mouth, endlessly thankful, but he held up his hand to silence her.

"How did you come to be trapped in a daemonblade?" He asked her. She told him the long and sad story from a week prior to the day of her entrapment until the day she had been given to Karl. He nodded, accepting her story. He was quiet, looking her body up and down.

"Lay down on the bed." He said to her. Her eyes went wide in shock. For a second she forgot that she was under his power, and she spoke.

"No! It's not right. I can't!" His eyes went cold.

"Then I am finished with you. **Leave me**." As once again her vision filled with white light, she screamed, a sound of such deep despair that everyone in the camp paused in their work. For a second Karl pitied her, wondering at the evil of gods that could bring Kirsten's life to this. Then he wondered where that weakness had come from.


	4. The Battle

**Chapter 4-The Battle**

As she shivered in her metal prison, she heard the voices outside.

"Master, our scouts have seen an enemy camp over the rise. Tzeentchian." It sounded like the voice of a warrior.

"Excellent." She heard Karl say. "We shall see if the power of a human-blade is exaggerated." Kirsten froze within her icy prison. She could remember the agony of fighting all too well. It would be the champion's first battle with her. She sat there, unmoving, praying that the battle would not come.

The warbands faced each other over the hill, Karl facing his opposite number. For a second, all was silent, and then both forces charged. Karl leapt into combat and slew a minotaur with a quick thrust, Kirsten's deadly power destroying it instantly. With his magic and that stolen from Kirsten he burnt a huge circle around him. The hordes of beastmen were keeping well clear. Karl smiled, and he charged them. With a slash three died, and a blast of lightning speared through the battle. Charred skeletons lay on the ground. Karl's forces were doing well; Karl himself went after their leader.

There they stood, opposite each other. Karl, with Kirsten the daemon weapon, and the beastman, bearing a great staff bladed at one end. The beastman charged at him, swinging its staff with unnatural speed. It crunched into him, denting his battered armour once more. It stood over him, staff raised. Karl sliced the head of the staff off with Kirsten's razor keen edge, and aimed a huge bolt of energy at its heart. The beastman exploded. Too late Karl saw the sphere falling from its belt. It was a globe of change. He knew, and by extension so did Kirsten, that this would shatter and mutate Karl, trapping him within a magical shield for hours. Kirsten put her head in her hands and cringed. Another mutation. She saw him changing. His eyes grew bigger, and the pupils vanished. They were deep pools now, a swirling hypnotic blend of colours.

She looked down at herself. Nothing had changed. But then she felt a spot on her back with no metal. Two spots, even. She could feel metal on the air behind her, and as it flowed into a large shape she tried to feel it. Her hand brushed feathers. The changes of chaos had given her wings. She felt oddly curious, and flapped. She could fly. All in all, she decided, it could be much worse. She curled the wings over her, to reduce the surface that the metal touched.

They were back at the camp, seeing who had survived the battle. Most of the warband was still alive. Karl nodded, and returned to his tent. He had very little to do. He removed the dented armour, and looked at himself in a mirror to see what had changed. On seeing his own eyes he nodded, and lost interest.

He removed his weaponry, including Kirsten's sword. He seemed to stop moving for a second, as if deciding something. He walked purposefully over to the Daemonblade and placed it on the floor.

"**Come forth**." He spoke in the hissing daemon tongue. Within the blade Kirsten was weeping. Karl had not taken enough of her power to exhaust her. The terrible pain she had not been subjected to since the last champion had been even worse after her brief returns to the world. She did not notice her vision going white until the metal touch vanished. She was free again. All her anger at her bearers binding her back into the blade vanished again, like each other time, as her heart filled with gratitude. She stretched out her new feathery wings, now they were not just curled up as a shield from the cold.

He looked at the wings with interest, and then spoke.

"I am your master. You will do everything and _anything_ I say. Yes?" She nodded.

"Good." He said, gazing at her with those hypnotic eyes. She looked away. "Then lie down on the bed." She nearly spoke, and then, remembering she was a slave, did as her owner told her, tears flowing silently down her face.


	5. Echoes of Redemption

**Chapter 5-Echoes of Redemption**

Karl was in a good mood. He had just heard that another warband was over the rise. He was preparing to attack. Followers of some minor power, he would crush them!

Inside the sword Kirsten sat, curled up as small as she could, weeping bitter tears.

She would never be free. This champion was too clever to die, and too cruel to free her. And she was not just trapped in the sword. He would release her, force her to do whatever he said and then trap her back in her metal prison. And now she was going to endure more pain, as a battle approached. She sat there, wings curled around her, and cried for the ruins of her life.

Later, as once again two forces faced each other, she felt her keen edge slice the air. She could no longer cry. She was so scared of the coming pain she made no noise. Until it arrived. Then she screamed as agony coursed through her.

Immediately, Karl closed in on their champion, who sent his warriors to fight Karl's, keeping only four with him. Kirsten, the sword, hissed through the air as the enemy champion approached with his band of warriors. With a speed born of chaos the guards died, and a scream rent the air from the sword. Only the champions remained facing each other with their ornate weapons. Karl leapt forwards with a speed normal humans could only dream of. The enemy champion spoke as their blades clashed.

"You serve chaos. Chaos, the destroyer, the twisting mutator. It will take your soul and destroy your mind." Karl did not speak, but sent a vicious slash that only just missed the enemy's throat.

"You have served the dark lords of chaos for what, how long, a year at most. Yes, I see your mind. For nearly a year you have had not one good thought. Chaos takes that which is good and replaces it with evil and insanity. But wait…" The champion ceased his circling, his glowing weapon up.

"Pity." He sounded surprised. "That is something I am surprised to see. That is normally the first to go." At this Karl felt anger.

"How can you see my mind?" he yelled, Kirsten felt herself fall still. His opponent smiled.

"My master grants gifts more useful than mutation and death. Who do you pity?"

"A daemon. No." He sighed. "A girl." Around them the battle was ending. Dying and broken bodies from both sides lay on the floor. The champion spoke again.

"You are losing control. You know it. I know it. The gods delight in it." He looked into Karl's hypnotic eyes, and for the first time in Karl's career, he was the one who looked away. "Join me and you can get your soul back. And we can help your girl."

Karl thought. He looked around once more. And he made his decision.


	6. Redemption

**Chapter 6-Redemption**

Karl sat in the camp of Marius, champion of Tavaris. His mind was far away, dwelling on the dark deeds he had done. One of Marius' Sigmarites sat with him. In one of the larger tents Marius was examining Kirsten's sword with his chief priest, Johann. They were talking quietly between them and Kirsten, exhausted and frightened, was sleeping fitfully within her prison of daemon-metal.

Later everyone was ready. They were in the middle of the camp. Karl stood there with his only remaining follower, Leon the sorcerer. He was mentally unwell after his redemption at the hands of Marius, but he wanted to be there. Kirsten had no idea what was happening. Her prison was on the floor in the middle of a forest. Everyone was watching it. There were priests there, and they all thought she was a daemon.

What would happen to her? Johann, priest of Sigmar, stepped forwards with his hammer. He lifted it, and intoned a prayer.

"Great Sigmar, please destroy this foul instrument of evil, and free your child within."

Free? Thought Kirsten. Could it really be…?

The hammer came down. The silver blessed metal of the priests hammer struck the daemon-steel. Everything went white. Then shattered. And Kirsten lay on the ground again. Marius came quickly over, and asked in his kind, strong voice.

"Child, what is your name?" And she responded, confused.

"I am Kirsten." He held out his hand; it contained a ring of a creamy substance.

"Put it on." She looked at him, questioning. "It will keep you here. As your body is dead, if you do not wear it you will be sucked to the realm of chaos and there they will make you theirs." She yelped, and put it on quickly. "The power of the ring will give you a new body if you wear it for a year and a day." She smiled.

"Thank you. Thank you, so much."

* * *

Later, Kirsten was sitting in her own tent. She was not moving, just thinking. The day before, she had been in mental and physical agony. Now, she was free and safe.

Someone walked slowly in. "Kirsten?" It was Karl. "I- I'm sorry." She looked at him. He continued. "You are no daemon. I know that now. Can you forgive me?" She smiled.

"I think you kept me sane. You are already forgiven." He smiled briefly.

"I- no." He stopped. And turned to go. He walked slowly out of her tent.

She looked at the door curiously, and then looked away. Without warning he ran back in.

"I love you!" He said. He took her hand, and whispered. "I love you." She looked up.

In her heart, she could tell that one day she would love him too.


End file.
